blue birds
by not a straight trumpet
Summary: Kumiko knew.


**a/n:** so that final oath teaser huh? i am so afraid. if shuumiko becomes canon i'm gonna personally fistfight the kyoto animation staff. anyways i didn't feel like i could do nozomi and mizore's story justice from their pov so: kumiko. she's just tired.

* * *

Kumiko knew.

She knew that there was something going on between Nozomi and Mizore, that what she'd seen in that classroom hadn't been the end of it, but she refused to involve herself in it. This was none of her business - hadn't been the first time, either, but she knew Asuka and Asuka knew Nozomi and Nozomi knew Mizore, and there was a certain double entendre behind the last one but anyway, now it _definitely_ wasn't her business.

So she focused on Kanade, on the euphonium, on everything else. She ignored the little jolt she got every time she looked at the chair next to her and didn't see Asuka's knowing smirk, ignored how strange it was that the green ribbons were now worn by the first-years. Ignored Shuichi's dogged pursuit of the flower hairclip as something more, even as she left it in her dresser, buried beneath t-shirts and sweaters and whatever else ended up in there.

Despite all of that, she still knew, because she was friends with Natsuki and Natsuki was friends with Nozomi and everything got around, eventually. Kitauji wasn't a small school, but it wasn't all that big, either. People knew each other. The librarian was in the classroom adjacent to hers, and she gossiped in that monotone voice of hers about the girl with the blue hair who never, ever turned her books in one time. Reina involved herself a bit more - why, Kumiko didn't know exactly, but she suspected it was a fear that things would devolve into band drama again, and nobody wanted that.

In the end, nothing happened at all. Nothing obvious, anyway. There were no loud declarations, no fraught arguments in front of everyone. Whatever happened between them had happened in private, and Kumiko was relieved. She knew _something_ had happened, though. She knew it because Mizore usually played the oboe like it was made of glass, but this time she played it like the bird she'd been the whole time. It nearly drove Kumiko to tears.

The second- no, that was _her_ now, the _third_ -years had watched her and Reina out the window.

"The, uh, the competition's coming up, huh?" she'd said, trying to get through to Reina, just barely reaching for her. _"I finally found you,"_ she'd called out a million years ago, but Kumiko wondered how true that really was. She still felt lost, after all. Her head still pounded with all the things unsaid.

"I'm aware," Reina had replied. This was their little alcove, a spot behind the school that provided shade and privacy and comfort, but rationally Kumiko knew other people could've seen them out the window if they'd wanted to. Nobody ever did, though, which was why she found herself fixated somewhat on the movement in the window above. With a bit of squinting, she could catch Natsuki's auburn hair, Yuuko's bouncing ribbon. It wouldn't have been much of a stretch to imagine that Nozomi was with them. She was never alone, that girl. Not in a physical sense, anyway. Emotionally, Kumiko had no idea.

"How about we play the duet part?" Kumiko had suggested, for some reason - subconsciously it might've been because of how romantic the story was. It didn't take a genius to tell that Nozomi and Mizore felt more of a connection to it than they let on. Kumiko envied that, wondered if anyone saw her and Reina as the same star-crossed lovers.

 _Star-crossed._ When she was younger, Kumiko had thought that meant there were stars in the lovers' eyes like in a cartoon, or that they were a part of a constellation. Destined for each other, as it were. It wasn't until middle school that she learned the real meaning of it - destined, yes, but destined to go their own paths eventually. Never meant to last.

She doubted anyone thought of her and Reina like that, so it wasn't worth thinking of, but the duet was good practice.

Taki had told the band the vaguest details of the story, in order to "set the mood," but Kumiko hadn't bothered taking the book out of the library. Neither had Reina. She got the idea, though, enough that the tremendous weight of it all sat heavy on her shoulders.

So they played and played and Kumiko let the rhythm of it all, the soaring notes and melodies that swept her up carry her away into the robin's-egg blue sky. Reina was beside her, she knew that. They were in harmony, more so than they'd been in the past eight months. That alone comforted her.

Natsuki talked to her, afterwards, in that vague way she always did. She clapped a hand on Kumiko's shoulder, rough and affectionate, and let out a long, low whistle.

"That was some show you and Kousaka put on there," she said. Kumiko looked at her shoes.

"Y-you heard?"

"Yeah. Though ya probably already knew that."

"What's going on with Nozomi-senpai and Mizore-senpai?" Blunt. To the point. She'd been getting worse and worse at keeping her terrible personality in check. Natsuki frowned.

"Nothing any of us can do anything about," she finally settled on. "None of our business."

"Right." Kumiko folded her arms, pressing her fingers into the skin until she was sure they'd leave a mark, however temporary. "You four, uh, you went to the same middle school, didn't you?"

"Yep. Never knew Mizore that well back then, though."

"And Yuuko-senpai?"

"Shut it." Natsuki paused, caught between teasing and revealing something genuine. "She still wore those stupid ribbons, ya know. In middle school. Pretty sure she's got a rotating closet of 'em."

"Pfft, really?"

"Really! Used to be bigger, too. I think she's downsized over the years." Natsuki licked her lips, closed her eyes. Kumiko wondered what she was thinking. "Maybe it's her way of growing up."

They walked in silence, after that.

And so the year went on, and Kumiko heard nothing more about Nozomi and Mizore and their lovers' quarrel, but she sensed the shift anyway - sensed it when Mizore played her heart out and Nozomi looked so . . . _sad,_ oddly enough, but relieved, too.

It was not a conflict that had involved her, but it was one she felt tied to anyways. Perhaps that was just how things would always be.

* * *

 **a/n:** what's the finale oath plot? i have no goddamn idea but i'm terrified and liz was a masterpiece


End file.
